


Tales of Silverfinger

by IllusionaryEnnui, slugette



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:59:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllusionaryEnnui/pseuds/IllusionaryEnnui, https://archiveofourown.org/users/slugette/pseuds/slugette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is the dizzying tale of how the pirate Silverfinger earned that clever name. Indeed, once Silverfinger had another name and another life: Yvad, first mate and lover of Captain Dorian the Immaculate. || Originally written by slugette, edited by IllusionaryEnnui.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silverfinger

**Tale of Silverfinger**

Gather around, my friends, and hear my story.

Listen and fear.

Here is the dizzying tale of how the pirate Silverfinger earned that clever name. Indeed, once Silverfinger had another name and another life: Yvad, first mate and lover of Captain Dorian the Immaculate. Together, they are truly glorious sight to behold!  

Oh yes, I have seen them with my own eyes!

Ah, the handsome Captain, his dark olive skin and a moustache perfectly groomed, dazzled every eye as he wore his brilliant white coat, gleaming with golden embroidery. Gold chains and jewels of all kinds shined about his neck and glittered on his fingers too. Young Yvad, however, donned himself less extravagantly. Yet, his allure played in long ebony locks woven with silken threads and gems. And his countenance?! Oh, his face brought even the sea’s beauty to shame. For with beautifully chiseled jaws and cheekbones, the most striking amethyst eyes, lined by long dark lashes, pierced even the hardest heart.

The ocean danced beneath them and their ship, the Vainglory, their bounty and pleasure endless. Their fortune fell like stars for in a single day, their fortunes changed.

There it waited, a truly graceful ship laden by worldly treasures. And one Antivan princess. Hungry for power, they wielded their might and won. They stole the plunder and named her their prisoner. Now there was a siren, if there ever was one, a jewel given flesh. But her beauty's song would fall on deaf ears.

Now, these pirates were no boorish pigs. The men treated her with dignity fit for her station until they could return her for ransom from her father. They knew one slip, one scratch might earn them a noose or worse. But how could they have expected the unlikely?

Among the daze of promised gold, the princess swooned and teetered. Hopelessly she fell for the raven haired pirate who offered her polite friendship yet nothing more in return. Still, they sought her ransomed price. That hoard accepted and their time ended, Yvad simply kissed her hand and bid her farewell in the half-light, his beautiful face perfectly framed by sunset.

What a cruel sight to behold! Her heart, she knew, would never forget that one man, never heal from that imagined wound.

Safe inside her father’s care, the princess found herself unable to eat or sleep. Her empty eyes stared out towards the sea, longing to set her gaze on him again. Even her father, the king and a compassionate man, failed to console her. No choice remained. Knowing her heart had locked itself against all others, he hired the best men gold could buy to catch this pirate for his beloved daughter.

They studied and schemed. They knew their prey and set the deadly trap where the pirates knew only comfort and ease. At the port tavern, blood rose and cried out. The battle which followed was quick but most vicious! Shaken, the great captain fought to protect his lover like a madman. That white coat, once pristine and stunning, turned angry crimson, immaculate no longer. His sword flashed, possessed. But to no avail. Despite the desperate effort, his wounds overcame him. A dead man would save no one - he had no choice but to flee. Yet in the corner of a tear-stained eye, he watched them steal away his dearest treasure, unconscious and knowing little of where or why they secreted him from his captain.

Night came.

Yvad awoke in a sad state. Alone. Bound. Imprisoned in the dark and dank. He gasped at the noble woman peering at him from between iron bars, his violet orbs burning their hurt. The betrayal which seized held no limit, for he ever treated her with respect. Even so, the princess begged for his forgiveness. She spilled promises of all the riches and power her father could muster if only he would love her.

He did not welcome them. No, he did not even want them. He shook his head in disgust and then scrambled like an animal entrapped, no more than a lamb to the slaughter. Despair seeped in and he even pleaded. But his violet eyes remained cold to her, steeled and devoid of the love she so desired and she threw herself away from the cell, utterly heartbroken.  

The princess saw that the pirate would not be persuade, nor would he be beaten into submission. He was too strong for that. So she sought another, more sinister way.  

Can you guess? Even one thought? One inkling?

Ah, yes. I can see it in your eyes: blood magic.

It came as a favour to one of Tevinter’s brood. With contempt and purpose, the blood mage enchanted a ring forged with two drops of lifeblood, one of the princess and one of the pirate. His thin lips curled as he warned her that would not be able to make him love her. Nothing could. Not even blood magic. A heart was not stolen so easily. His enchantment would make him hers, however, to do with as she pleased as the bound itself to his flesh and bone. It was a bond that would not be broken.

Cruel as it might be, far from the once kind-hearted princess courted, she was driven mad by his rejection and her desire. It would serve, she thought. When she held the ring and felt the tingle of its power, she only laughed with glee. Morality mattered little to her beyond that..

Her guards had to hold him down when she returned, her trinket held close to her breast. She slipped through their grasp and took the pirate’s left hand into her own. The ring she placed on the fourth finger, her gaze full of fire. He howled and struggled until the magic took hold, gnashing his teeth. And then, he grew silent. The light seemed to sputter and die from his eyes. When the princess held his hand and asked him to kiss her, he obliged. No words. No contempt. No fight moved him.When their lips met, a single tear fell from his eye.

Months marched by.

Wild gossip filled the shadows of the Antivan court. “Have you seen Her Ladyship’s new consort?” they would whisper. They praised the man's handsome features, his silken black hair and alluring violet eyes. They spoke of his quiet manners, of his unwavering devotion to the princess. Some said he was once a pirate who fell in love with the princess. Others suggested he was some prince from a distant land.  

Their mutterings spread far and wide until they reached awaiting ears. At their words, Captain Dorian seethed and trembled.

Would any of it be true? Had he finally found his beloved, only to discover that he fell for another?

“All lies,” he told himself, “certainly.”

The truth he would seek for himself.

Now in Antiva, as you all know, there resides a certain group of individuals one could hire if a job required a certain degree of… secrecy.  

Yes, the Crows. Among them was one named Zevran Arainai whose reputation regarding the matters of love many considered legendary. Well, legendary as long as you didn’t tell him to pick any locks for you. But don’t you remind him of that.

Hidden in secret places of the city, Captain Dorian leered across a table at this elven Crow, gray eyes tracing the sweeping tattoos across his cheek.  

His fury barely contained, Dorian regaled his tale, his stare never leaving the crow’s amber eyes.

“Can you do it?” he had asked.

Zevran smiled and answered, “It is indeed a delicate matter... specially if it concerns the princess, yes? It will be most difficult.”

The dam around the captain’s rage cracked open. His fist slammed onto the table with the weight of his loss and he stood to leave, his seat screeching away.

Yet, in the span of a half-breath, Crow’s hand snaked out to grasp his sleeve. Dorian stilled, rooted as he stared down, his mouth parted and confused.

“Nuh, uh. Not too fast, my friend. I said difficult, but not... impossible.” That last word tumbled from the Crow’s tongue like fine wine and a worthy challenge.

Hours faded away once Dorian returned to his seat. They spoke some more and when talk ended, the crow disappeared into the night.  His task set, the captain lingered in his own company, holding his drink until the olive skin of his knuckles turned white and furrows marked his brow.

A full day passed until the Crow return, more of an eternity for the captain. He did not sleep as he waited, only refilled his cup again and again. With a playful smile, Zevran confirmed that the princess's consort was indeed the same Yvad the captain sought, the lover he had lost. The information in hand and Dorian’s mind racing, a plan hatched between them, a rescue of the most daring and reckless kind.

To some, even under the cover of the new moon, infiltrating the palace came easier than it should have been, thanks to the Crow. Still, worried the captain - perhaps he could have done this himself? No, he would not chance failure. They soon reached the window of their search, their point of entry. Through it, they quietly slipped into an unlit chamber. Scarcely heartbeat passed for Dorian to recognize the lone figure seated in an ornate chair set to face the open air.  

How forlorn the light of his life now appeared!

Dorian’s heart sank, his ring-heavy hands shaking. His feet flying, he closed the distance with a couple of long strides and knelt to collect that man into an embrace brimming with loss and longing.

"Amatus..." He whispered the name as if it was holy, for that was what he finally found: his beloved.

"I seem... to remember you... from another lifetime.” Yvad mumbled in answer, not returning the hug. All the while, his gaze never drifted on the moonlit window. In that moment, his visitor sensed a sheer wrongness. It was enough to make him take a step back even as the young man spoke again. “You should not have come. I am... not the same. Memories come like dreams. Hazy things. So are the waking moments. Her wishes fill my head and now, that is all I am."

Dorian could feel the strands of the spell gripping the mind of his love, twisting and chaining a free spirit. The thing pulsed like a beating heart and he knew it to be bound to the blood. Something more weaved within. Something which anchored it. Defined it. He narrowed his eyes as his own mind turned, letting the pieces fall.

But he didn’t complete the puzzle in enough time. It shattered as the door burst open and the princess stormed in, flanked by her guards. The captain cursed at the sight of templars among them. Even she clad herself armor, ready despite the time of the night.

"Captain,” she hissed. “Pleasure to see you again.”

Here, the captain offered a proper and colourful greeting in the language of pirates, but I shall not repeat it in the presence of children. Best leave their ears untainted for a bit longer.

Now, where was I?

Ah, yes.

With a single gesture, the princess beckoned to Yvad. At her command, he stood and joined her at her side. The captain held his breath with his eyes wide, transfixed as she combed her hand through the silken locks of his lover like one testing the softness of velvet. But that was where the candid tenderness ended. Viciously, she grabbed the handful of hair to lower his face to press her kiss to an unyielding mouth.

"Enough!" Dorian broke, unable to bear the sight. "What have you done to him?!"

The princess steeled those wicked eyes, locked on the captain while she enjoyed her prize.

"He is mine now." She announced it like honey and sin as she licked her lips - let him squirm and heed, she had thought.

The captain, his visage stained with his wrath, never looked away. Nor did he miss the quick flicker of her gaze that shifted onto Yvad's left hand when she said so. His mind whirled, the puzzle finally clicking into place.

The anchor for the blood magic... was the ring, of course! For one born in the hot winds of Minrathous, how could he have been blind, you wonder?

He wasted not a single breath. Dorian moved fast to reach Yvad without giving anyone a chance to react. He snatched his lover’s hand, fingers curling around his, and pulled at the ring as hard as he could. To his horror, that despicable band never budged, but the force of his pull made Yvad lurch forward into his arms. Dorian lost his balance, and toppled backwards onto the floor, Yvad atop him within the protective circle of his embrace. He pulled him even closer and rolled away as he ears rang with the princess’s livid shriek: "Kill him!"

One moment, all was still and in the next, chaos. Every blade and arm exploded in action.

I say “exploded” because something did explode. You see, Zevran had masked himself in the shadows until then. So silent that perhaps you had forgotten he was even there? At the first rattle of steel, the Crow tossed what seemed to be an unassuming jar into the middle of the room. But it smashed with a loud crack and a rain of shards and soon the room choked of billowing smoke. Shouts echoed from the confused guards, sounds of running feet and clanking of weapons adding their own chorus.

None of it mattered. Not to Dorian. All that mattered was Yvad. All his skill he mustered to not to hurt his lover, bracing and holding, even as the poor man made to kill him at the princess's command. His wicked dagger flashed, too close for comfort this time.  

Luck filled him as Yvad forewent his magic. Perhaps the blood magic binding him kept it locked, but that blade was more than a fearful match. Another glint of the dagger brought him back into focus. Over the clashing and fumbling, he heard the crow shout through the smoke: "Hurry! We don't have much time!"

Hurt became his answer - he only prayed Yvad would forgive him. Dorian grabbed the wrist which held the dagger and slammed hard onto the floor. The man grunted in pain and released his grip. The weapon slid onto the polished floor, clattering. Panic set and both men scrambled after it. Chaos reigned, the smoke too thick to give insight. After much groping, Dorian thanked the Maker as his fingers touched the hilt. He could hear metal clanging against metal near and feared for the Crow for a moment’s stutter. Magic came to mind but the risk of the templars’ attention proved greater. Strength and determination remained his own course as he wrestled the smaller man instead, pinning him hard down to the ground.

There was no time to think. Dorian grasped Yvad's left hand in a vice-like grip, and with savage cry, brought the dagger down as hard as he could.

All was blood and screaming. His mind on fire, Yvad’s vision shrank to nothing but a wash of vivid, blinding red. Pain unlike any stole reason and control. Yet, something. The world became sharper, more focused. Real. He heard the voice. "Amatus...."

Who was that? He wondered, unable think clearly through the pain. But the pain was nothing. There was something worse than the pain, something that was now gone. He couldn't see through the tears in his eyes, and what he imagined to be smoke. All of it crushed him, confounding.

Even blinded, he felt something keep him grounded. A strong hand lifted him up and yelled for him to run. So he did.

They all did.

The castle was far behind them when they found themselves safe and sound aboard the Vainglory. On the shore, Zevran revelled in his very handsomely pay for his services, as you can imagine, and they parted ways with smiles and merriment. Together once more, Captain Dorian the Immaculate fashioned a new finger out of silver and steel for his beloved. They say it is enchanted to move like a real finger, a clever thing that would make the great dwarven craftsmen shiver. Some worry that Yvad, now dubbed Silverfinger, never fully recovered from this ordeal, however. He is now reputed to be more deadly than he is beautiful, no longer charming and gentle like he used to be.

A pity, really.

What was that? Of course this is the end of the story. The exciting bit is all over, you hear?

Oh, the princess?

I’m sure you guessed. She went quite mad. Her father had no choice but to confine her into a tower somewhere. Some still gossip under the moon that it was the backlash of the blood magic, and others say she got overcome by grief of losing her beautiful pirate.

Now, bring me more rum, will you? Who knows, I may have more tales to tell once i quench my thirst...


	2. The name from the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past catches up with Silverfinger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even darker chapter. Written by slugette. Thank you to dontknowcats and illusionaryennui for beta and helpful suggestions.

A lone figure sat at the bar of a near-empty dockside tavern. Despite the early hour, it was mostly dark inside with only a few dirty windows barely letting any light through. A small candle illuminated a forearm garbed in a silk white shirt with its cuff embroidered in silver threads. The jewels woven into his long dark locks jingled with the slightest of movements. Slender fingers, one made of silver, danced over the pewter tankard he was holding.

_Tap, Tap, Clank, Tap._

His other hand made lazy circles over the rim of the tankard.

_Tap, Tap, Clank, Tap._

This curious rhythm continued. Only a small sound it was, but it seemed to fill the empty tavern, but not for long.

The door banged open, letting in a sudden flood of daylight.  A group of men entered, mere shadows against the harsh light. They had the look of thugs, or  even murderers. Either way they were definitely on some… serious business. Their purposeful strides took them to the bar, surrounding the pirate whose fingers were still dancing over the tankard.

“You’re late,” Silverfinger said without turning around.

The biggest man among them with a bald head and a greasy beard leaned against the bar next to Silverfinger. He wore a leather jerkin without a shirt underneath. The stink of sweat and something sour wafted about him.

“Expecting us, huh? I was told that you were back, so I had to come and see for myself! Little ‘vad, coming back to us, after all this time….” he said, squinting his eyes as they grew accustomed to the dark.

The man continued after a throaty chuckle, “Let me look at you, little 'vad. I heard things about you that I can’t believe!”

Silverfinger spun and gave the man a level glare. His violet eyes seemed to flash for an instant. The bald newcomer blinked. Surely he just imagined that.

“Do not call me that, Bucktooth.” Silverfinger said in a quiet even voice.

Bucktooth Jack raised his eyebrow and his gaze traced the smaller man’s features, with his mouth gaping slightly. His eyes lingered on the smaller man’s plump, curved lips for too long, and then dipped down to the finger made of metal. He licked his lips.

“Boy, you’ve.. changed all right. No more pleasantries then? I was hoping we could… re-acquaint ourselves. Just like old times?” He said,not even trying to hide a greedy and rather unsavoury smirk.

Silverfinger wrinkled his nose, and took a careful sip from his tankard as if to wash away a foul taste.

“You fucking disgust me. Don’t pretend that you’re here for 'pleasantries’. I know old Stinkboots sent you,” he spat.

Bucktooth paled visibly at the mention. “You know he hates being called that. All right. He told me you stole something of his, and he.. _requests_ that you return it.”

Silverfinger laughed but his eyes remained icy cold. “Requests? The Stinkboots I know never ‘requests’. So he sent you, and these… thugs. It is a piss poor welcoming party, even for his standards!”

Bucktooth shrugged, his lopsided smirk widening. “You hurt a poor old man’s feelings. Thought you’d be happy to see me!”

Silverfinger stood. “Never in my life was I happy to see you. This is a waste of my time. Go tell Stinkboots that if he wants something, then he can come and get it himself!”

The outburst, brimming with fury, won attention from the rest of the group, all silently standing by up until then. Their hands shot towards hidden blades, wary. Their glances shifted nervously between Bucktooth and Silverfinger.  

Bucktooth took a step sideways to stand dead in front of Silverfinger. Towering, the bald man was at least half a head taller. The rest quickly took up their positions, two on the either side of Bucktooth, and two behind Silverfinger.

Bucktooth placed his hand to cup the side of the smaller man’s face. He ran his thumb almost tenderly over his lower lip. Silverfinger tensed, but did nothing.

“There are five of us, and one of you. Just like the old times, my sweet little ‘vad”

Two daggers seemed to materialise out of nowhere and flew from Silverfinger’s hands.

_Thud-thud!_

The two men on either side of Bucktooth fell backwards. They gurgled their last cries, clutching at their wet, bloodied necks where the dagger hilts jutted out.  Among the chaos, the fresh smell of rain and the electricity of a storm filled the air as Silverfinger whirled around.  The two men behind him had their weapons half-drawn when they saw his violet eyes flicker. They, too, fell thrashing on the ground, their screaming growing quiet as the smell of burnt flesh grew thicker in the air.  

In only moments, Bucktooth found himself alone, face to face with what felt like a demon freshly out of the fade.

“An.. a…a-apostate? You?“ He stammered, taking a step backwards.

Another glint of violet and the man fell with a thud, writhing and screaming as his limbs jerked around violently. When the pain finally eased, he looked up through a haze of tears and saw Silverfinger squatting next to him, tossing and catching his dagger.

“You know… I was going to just… leave, Let the past be the past. I tried to forget some things, but you kept  reminding me. Tell me, now. What is my name?”  

Bucktooth sucked in the spittle dribbling down onto his cheek. He couldn’t move his arms nor his legs. His tongue turned to cotton, thick and clumsy as he fought to form words.

“S- S… Silverfinger.”

The corner of Silverfinger’s mouth curled up into a half-grin, but that - matched an intense glare - made the expression a lot more sinister. More frightening.

The big man shuddered.  

“Good! You know, changing the name helped me forget about the past.  Maybe, it will help you too. Bucktooth is an awful name anyway.”

Silverfinger hovered his boot over Bucktooth’s left hand and the man’s breathing grew shallow. Eyes wide with fright, all he could do was pray to the Maker to let him move his useless limbs.  

He saw the flash of the raised dagger.

“How about.. No-Finger Jack?”  

The dagger swung down.

_Thud!_

Bucktooth screamed.

_Thud!_

He struggled through the haze of pain, but he found he couldn’t move any of his limbs properly.

“P-please.  No… no more. I’m s-sorry!” He sobbed.

_Thud!_ This time, the blinding wave of pain did not come. No, he realised - it was the sound of the door opening.  Someone to rescue him, perhaps?

“Amatus!  Are you alright?” The voice cried.

Heavy footsteps. He could now see the hem of immaculate white coat and a pristine pair of boots.

“Dorian…“ Silverfinger sighed and stood while Dorian assessed the situation. He did not offer an explanation but his shoulders seemed to droop. The dagger fell with a loud thump and the man on the floor flinched visibly, his whimpering growing louder.

Dorian collected Silverfinger into an embrace, not caring about the blood that covered nim.

“I was worried when you left on your own. Let’s go.“ Dorian said softly, looking into the other man’s eyes.

Silverfinger hesitated, looking down at Bucktooth Jack. He sighed again.

A hint of remorse? One could not tell. He simply left without saying a word, wrapped in an arm of his lover.

Once again, the dockside tavern was dark and empty. Only the sound of quiet sobbing and whimpering disturbed its peace.      


End file.
